


Notes from a Magpie

by WindMeister8



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Enemy Lovers, F/M, Handwriting, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Letters, Love Letters, Resistance, War, World War I, World War II, penpal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-10-27 17:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17771270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindMeister8/pseuds/WindMeister8
Summary: Words are the gateway to the mind.They can deceive. They can inspire.They can kill. And they can save.Can you trust what is written on paper? Do you trust the person behind the words?What is your choice?





	1. 12th of December

_To my dearest magpie,_

_Good move of your bishop there. You’re learning fast! But what will you do now?  
Rook to bishop four._

_Are you preparing your little stomach for Christmas? I know there’s not much to feast on what with the ongoing rations but I hope you eat well and keep yourself warm. Since I can’t be there for you, I wish for someone to be by your side if only to make sure you’re taking good care of yourself._

_Also, yes. I’m a native Eldian. I’m a little embarrassed that you could tell that by my terrible Yadish script actually! And it’s understandable to be cautious, I would too. I guess one way of putting it is that I hope what I do in my job is for the good of our people. Not everyone believes or understands it but I truly believe from the bottom of my heart that I’m helping the Eldians in this uncertain times under Marleyian occupation._

_And maybe in a small way, I’m helping you too, I hope._

_From the awkward giraffe.  
_

~ ~ ~   


His pen name always made her smile. Pressing a kiss to the well pored over brown paper, she folded it neatly in two before slipping it into her oversized winter jacket where it sat with her Eldian papers. She spared a glance out the misty windshield – nothing had moved in the silent white-washed night. The door to the small cottage in the distance remained shut, the lights within it as dim as the other densely packed wooden houses clustered around it.

She rubbed her hands together and blew onto them, her breath appearing in white clouds of mist. The longer she sat in the car, the quicker she was turning into an icicle. How long did Bhreac need to fetch ONE letter?! Swiveling around in her seat, she checked to see whether there were any Marleyian patrols around. The coast was clear. 

A hand dug into the pocket of her jacket, she pulled out a piece of scrap paper and a pen. She chewed on her pen tip and looked down at the blank sheet of paper.

Starting her letters to her Mr. Giraffe was the most difficult because she had to figure out where to move her chess pieces next. She had only started learning the game when she started her correspondence with him but had quickly grown to love it.

Maybe she would leave that part out for now. Skipping the beginning, she thought back to what he wrote next. A coy smile played across her lips as she recalled the insinuation that he wanted to keep her warm. Or maybe it was just her wild fantasies getting ahead of her… but who was to deny her the chance to dream?

Their correspondence was like something out of a romance book after all.  The way it had played out was so innocent and sweet – chancing upon a note stuck in the pages of a history book asking whether anyone knew about the mythological beginnings of the Eldian race, her short reply to the anonymous person quickly evolved into a heated exchange regarding gods and goddesses.

Soon it progressed to more personal topics about their hobbies, likes and dislikes. She found it so comfortable conversing with her anonymous person – a man, as the writer of the letters claimed – and apparently, so did he. Despite her cousin, Bhreac’s warnings about the identity of the man (or woman, Bhreac often pointed out), she didn’t believe that her Mr. Giraffe had lied about anything to her. Call her naïve or ignorant about the world’s ways but she could feel his soul through his letters.

There was something about the way he wrote that resonated with her. Maybe it was the demure way he wrote, maybe it was the way the words were carefully written and laid out neatly on the piece of paper, maybe it was just the sense of being lost in this large world that she often perceived from his letters. Whatever it was, she felt a kindred spirit in Mr. Giraffe and the longer they continued their correspondence, the more she devoted herself to knowing more about him.

But she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a flood of relief upon knowing that he was an Eldian like her. Before receiving his latest letter, she had gone for days with barely any food, worried to death that he might be a Marleyian after all, just like Bhreac had warned. Thank goodness he wasn't.

As she scribbled a few words down, head bowed in thought, she didn’t notice the door to the cottage opening and a figure dashing towards the car. The sharp rap on the window startling her, she jumped in shock.

A young red-haired man waved at her, his coat lapel drawn up to obscure his face. She unlocked the door for him and clambered over to the passenger seat as he entered the car. He exhaled loudly, body bent over the dashboard and shivering. His face was slightly pallid from exposure to the freezing wind outside, highlighting the freckles that dotted his cheekbones.

“What took so long?” she asked, a tinge of annoyance mixed with curiosity in her voice.

A low hum escaped his lips. “The committee was deliberating on something. I’ll tell you on the way home.”

As he reached for the ignition keys, he noticed the pen and paper in her hand. Rolling his eyes, he sighed in exasperation. “Oh come on, Rosheen. Really? Writing letters to that guy while you’re supposed to keep watch?”

Her cheeks reddened and she hurriedly stuffed pen and paper into her pocket. Crossing her arms over her chest in childish petulance, she replied in a flustered tone, “Sorry… it’s not my fault you took so damn long, Bhreac.”

“Rosheen.” The look in his green eyes sent a chill down her spine. Never had she seen him so serious in her life, not even when they had first signed up to be part of the Eldian Resistance. She gulped, her stomach knotting in anxiety.

“This is serious,” he said. “They have set the date for the uprising.”

Her heartbeat accelerating, she licked her dry lips. “Whe- when?”

“24 December.”


	2. 18th of December

_  
My dear magpie:_

_I’m sorry I didn’t have the time to continue our little chess game. Work has gotten busier and while it has been taxing on me physically, it’s the emotional stress that has gotten to me._

_You said in your last letter that it must be nice that I have a sense of purpose. But honestly, I don’t. I tried hiding the truth from you but the burden of my guilt sits too heavy on my shoulders. I didn’t lie when I said I believe that what I’m doing is for the good of Eldians. But the truth is I didn’t make a conscious decision to enter this line of work. I try desperately to rationalize my decisions but deep down, I know I’m a coward who just followed what his friends did to survive. I’m a traitor._

_I’m terrified to know what you must now think of me. But I don’t have anyone to turn to. You’re the only one I dare to tell my darkest secrets to. With you, I feel safe, at ease, happy. Writing to you has been the most blissful time and I’m glad I decided to slip that note in the history book. That has been the best decision I’ve made in my life._

_But if you choose not to write to me anymore, it’s alright, I can understand. If this is to be my last letter, then I thank you for all the happiness you’ve brought me over the past few months._

_Your awkward giraffe._  
  
~ ~ ~  


The small cart rolled to a stop with a sharp squeak as its rusted rollers scratched against the wooden floor. Rosheen’s grip on the handles loosened. One hand reached out to scoop the books on the cart, the other stretched between a small gap in the shelves to make way for the newly returned books. It was a routine job that she normally loved but today, there seemed to be a mist clouding over her blue hues.

Trapped in a quiet place with nobody to talk to, she longed to take a walk in the park to clear her mind. The past few days were complete havoc what with the preparations for the uprising. Every member of the Eldian resistance was a bundle of nerves. 

But the growing discomfort that nestled at the pit of her stomach was not due to nerves. Unlike her elders who reminisced about the old days when the Eldian nation was independent, all she had ever known was to be an Eldian slave to the Marleyians. Imagining how freedom might taste like was such a foreign concept to her that she worried how her life would change if the resistance were to succeed.

It more than worried her - it scared her. She had survived day to day all for the purpose of fighting against the Marleyians. And she, despite being an average woman, was a crucial piece of the resistance. Everyone was. Everyone had a part to play, no matter how little, in serving the great cause.  

But without that goal, what next? What could she possibly do in a new world where there was no common enemy to fight? She didn’t have any special skills or abilities, nor a special someone who she had to bear responsibility for. 

Her chest constricted for the millionth time today. She couldn’t tell Bhreac. He was already stressed out over the increased number of runs he had to do to relay messages. And frankly she was terrified of his reaction if he were to know how she truly felt. 

Her first thought was to turn to Mr. Giraffe. But his previous letter had sent a chill down her back. All her doubts about his job, his race, came rushing back to fill her head with a newfound intensity. Was he her enemy after all?

She paused as the last book slipped into place between the shelves.

_You’re the only one I dare to tell my darkest secrets to._

Her heart skipped a beat as she recalled that line in his letter, his desperation and sorrow reflected in the scrawled words that was accompanied by a slightly damp spot on the paper. No matter how much the voice in the back of her head told her not to trust this man, all she wanted was to comfort him and let him know that she would be the one to understand him.

To be the **only** one for him.

A pang of guilt gripped her. There it was again, that selfish desire of hers. That irresistible pull to be someone of importance, to be needed. She shook her head furiously. Nothing was more important than helping the Eldian resistance. She took a deep breath to calm herself down as she started to push her cart forward.

Too wrapped up in her thoughts with her gaze stuck to the ground, she bumped head first into someone's chest. As she looked up in a daze, she mumbled a half-hearted apology. But when her eyes sought out the face of the person she had knocked into, her face turned ashen.

A hard chiseled face stared down at her with ice blue eyes that pierced her soul. On his brown uniform sat three stars, the mark of a corporal - a Marleyian corporal. 

Her hand flew to her open mouth as she bowed hurriedly. “I am very sorry, sir. I-” 

A sharp grip of her wrist forced her to turn to face a second younger and more boyish looking soldier who eyed her like a piece of candy. With a smirk on his face, the blonde man looked to his superior. “What should we do with this disrespectful whore?” 

Rosheen stared at the corporal with large, pleading eyes. Her heart pounded furiously with every second that the corporal silently scrutinized her with that unmoving expression of his. When his thin lips finally parted, the cold indifference of his voice struck terror into her heart.

“Have away at her.” The carelessly given order was lapped up by his subordinate with a prompt salute. 

“No.. no please no,” Rosheen whimpered as the blonde man ran a finger down her cheek. She trembled at his touch, her lips quivering as she struggled futilely against his grip.

Suddenly, the sound of another soft voice filtered through her ears, its speaker uncertain and nervous. “S-sir? What is happening here?”

She looked up through a blurry curtain of tears to see another soldier, taller than the first two, appear behind the blonde man. 

Her captor sneered. “Mind your own business, Hoover.”

The tall one called Hoover ignored him and addressed the corporal directly. “Sir, is-isnt this against our code of con-conduct?”

She turned to look at the corporal, a flicker of hope igniting. The hard man had fixed his authoritative glare on Hoover but as she blinked back her tears, she noticed the hatred in his eyes.

Her head swiveled back towards Hoover, taking him in more carefully this time. Black hair, brown eyes, soft face, and… She sucked in a deep breath.

A yellow star on his jacket lapel. An Honorary Marleyian - an Eldian. 

“Hoover.” The corporal spoke bitingly. “If you can't stand the sight of your Eldian woman scum being taken, then get out.”

Her heart sank. She stared desperately at Hoover, silently begging him to save her. He looked down at her, his large brown eyes wide with terror. He opened his mouth as if to say something more but then closed it, turned, and left without a word.

As the library door closed behind him, she held back a sob. Her one and only one hope was gone. What was she expecting of a traitor, a dog to the Marleyians?

She lost her will to fight, even as the blonde man pushed her flat onto the ground. She fixed her gaze on the wooden ceiling as she felt one by one, her articles of clothing being removed. When the last piece of cloth was gone, exposing her bare skin, a shrill alarm rang out.

“Fuck.” The blonde soldier looked up at the red strobing light of the fire alarm on the far side of the wall. “What kind of bad timing is this??”

“Koslow. Time to go.” The corporal spun on his heels and left, followed by the blonde who gave her a parting peck on her skin like a searing scar.

Rosheen remained prone, her eyes vacant and lifeless. Slowly as if by instinct, she pushed herself up and put on her scattered clothing like a zombie. As she left the building, she felt a pair of eyes on her but she didn't care who it was anymore.

The Marleyians didn’t manage to harm her but her soul was already wounded beyond repair.


	3. 23rd of December

_(1 day before Christmas Eve)_

_Magpie,_

_I am beginning to think this is an endless cycle. If we kill our enemies today, another one rises from their ashes. I realized today that I don't have the power to protect everyone. I am too weak for that.  But if I can just protect one person, if I can just protect you, that would be enough for me. I will do everything within my power for you, if you would let me. But I am afraid that will never happen._

_Giraffe._  
  
~ ~ ~  


“It’s not fair.”

She looked out the window of her apartment with a glare. The cold metal of the phone pressed against her ear with one hand, the other gripped a stack of white papers. “All these travel documents are for the committee members only??”

“Rosheen.” Bhreac’s tired voice drifted down the line. “Just… pass it on, alright?”

“What about us, Bhreac? What about all the rest of us?” she demanded. 

She heard him sigh and she could picture him rubbing the heel of his palm on his forehead.

“There’s not enough documents to go around,” came the lacklustre explanation. “It can’t be helped, Rosheen. We’re not as important as them. We have to prioritize.”

She slammed the papers on her wooden desk with a thump. “Prioritize?! We sacrificed as much as them! We did the ground work, we put our lives at risk. And they get to leave if the uprising doesn’t go down well??”

“Look,” he said, a touch of frustration creeping into his words. “The committee isn’t happy about your correspondence with this unknown guy as it is. So just do the job fast.”

Rosheen’s eyes widened. For a while, she remained dumbstruck and then she slumped into her chair, the air deflating out of her. Tears of embarrassment and betrayal sprang to her eyes as she mumbled, “And whose fault is it that they know of that?”

There was only silence down the line. Rosheen sniffed and used the back of her hand to dab at the corner of her eyes. She collected herself with what little energy she had left. No more willpower to argue or fight, she mutely followed her orders. 

A hand reached out and grabbed the papers, she was about to reply Bhreac when a sharp rap on the front door echoed like the report of a rifle through her small apartment. Her head snapped up. She placed the phone down in its cradle and shoved the papers into the false bottom of her drawer. Once the lid was back in place, she hurried to the door.

A quick intake of breath and a rough patting down of her dress, then she opened her door a crack. Sunlight filtered through the small slit between the door and the frame as she peered out into the crowded side road.

Stood not two metres away from her porch was a Marleyian soldier, his head bowed as he held a clipboard in his hands. Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of the enemy literally at her door. 

“Y-yes?” she managed a hoarse whisper.

The soldier looked up and the sight of his baby face sent goosebumps down her body. Suddenly, the rough touch of his comrade felt fresh on her skin and she visibly shivered at the horrid memory that she had forced to the back of her mind. Fingers clawed the door frame as she backed away slightly.

Hoover - she recalled, the name burnt into her mind - took an uncertain step forward. “I-I’m here for the monthly household check.”

She hesitated a split second before opening the door to let him in. It’s not like she could refuse a soldier’s order. With her arms folded protectively over her chest, she watched as he prodded around her small abode and took notes. He didn’t seem like most soldiers who had their noses stuck up in the air and who rifled through her belongings roughly. Maybe it was because he was an Eldian and felt guilty for abandoning his own kind.

Her brows knitted as she recalled how easily he had left her to the whims of those Marleyian bastards. Nails biting into her arm, a growing rage roiled in her stomach. 

As if on cue, Hoover turned around and flashed a small smile. “All done.”

His attempt at friendliness was met with a seething glare and he cowered at the icy glow in her eyes. “I-I’ll take my leave then.”

Rosheen silently moved towards the front door with Hoover following closely behind. As he stepped out into the fresh air, he tore off the piece of paper and handed it to her without looking her in the eye, hurriedly reciting his orders. “Please remember to pin this on your mailbox as per usual..” He glanced at the name etched on the metal mailbox. “Miss Vink.” 

She took the paper with his report without a word and waited expectantly for him to leave.

The young man hovered at the doorstep, his eyes darting around the place as if he wanted to say something. Mustering up his courage, he blurted, “I hope the fire alarm was in time to save you, miss.”

Taken off guard by his random remark, she remained expressionless. She didn’t care what he meant, all she wanted was for him to be gone. When he looked up to see her hostile expression, he winced and turned around. Before he walked away, she thought she heard him whisper an apology but that could have been the wind.

Rosheen closed the door behind her and looked down at the paper in his hand. The soldier’s writing was long and slanted, the words towards the end hurried. It was pretty unique actually, that way he looped his letters or cut them off halfway. Kind of similar to her Mr. Giraf-

Her eyes widened as the thought entered her mind. It couldn’t be-

Rosheen ran to her bedside and dropped to her knees in front of the dresser. She pulled the bottom drawer out and pulled out a bunch of letters tied together with red string. With trembling fingers, she removed one of the letters and unfolded it. Her eyes ran over the words and flicked back to the report she held in the other hand.

Her heart sank. There was no mistaking it.

The writing was identical. An accurate match.


	4. 24th of December

**(AU Note: Listen to[this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MrFCa8wZSUU) for maximum effect)**

_(Christmas Eve)_

_Dear Mr. Giraffe,_

_I’m sorry I judged you for what you did. You’re not to blame. Just like me, you’re a victim of this merciless war. I too thought I was helping the Eldian people. I thought what I was doing meant something. I thought I meant something. Evidently not. I’m just collateral damage in the great scheme of things. I don’t have a purpose, I don’t know what I’m meant for. But I do know what to do next._

_Goodbye, Mr. Giraffe._

_From Magpie._  
  
~ ~ ~  


Thrown out onto the road by an irate old Eldian man, Hoover brushed the dirt off his jacket. Snow crunched under his feet and he shivered at the gust of wind that whipped across his face.

He hated household check duty. Normal patrol duty with the Marleyian soldiers were bad enough with them abusing him. But household check duty meant interaction with his own people who abhorred him for what he did. And when he saw how they lived in small quarters with little food, it reminded him of his dear deceased father who at least had some amount of comfort due to his status of Honorary Marleyian.

Not that the status meant anything now. He had quietly followed his friends in signing up for being a soldier but one by one, they too had left this world. Then when he finally found a reason to smile each day in his beloved magpie’s letters, all of a sudden that too was gone.

Shoulders hunched as he shuffled miserably down the road, he missed the shadow creeping towards him. His arm was gripped suddenly and he was pulled into the dark alleyway.

“Who are you?” he shouted, yanking away. His hand flew to the pouch on his hip, his fingers grazing over the butt of the revolver.

His eyes now adjusting to the surroundings, he saw a woman in front of him, her blue eyes shining in the dark. Her brown curls were tied up in a ponytail and the long winter jacket she wore came down to her knees. He frowned. She looked vaguely familiar and as the pieces in his mind fell together, the name rolled off his tongue slowly.

“Miss… Vink?”

She nodded and he relaxed slightly, the hand falling away from his revolver. “What-”

“Come with me.” She took his hand and dragged him down the alleyway.

Taken by surprise, he allowed himself to be guided along. His mind was in a swirl but somehow, he knew that this woman intended no harm. He tried to prompt a response from her. “Miss Vink, where are we going?”

She said nothing as she took the next corner.

“Why are you doing this?”

Silence. Frustrated, he tugged his hand away from her grip which caused her to turn.

“Please tell me what’s happening, Miss Vink,” he implored.

Her eyes darted around as she shifted tensely from foot to foot before finally saying in a low and quiet voice, “Thank you for saving me that day.”

She looked up at him. “Now let me save you.”

Before he could ask why, a loud boom thundered through the street, rattling the windows as the ground tremored beneath them. Instinctively, they cowered with their hands lifted defensively above their heads. When the rattling stopped, he looked up to see a giant cloud of debris and smoke rising from the structures behind them. Screams and wails of agony permeated the air, followed by the rat-a-tat of machine gunfire.

“What was th-”

Cut off mid-sentence by the urgent tug on his hand, he was once again led down the maze of streets. His head swiveled back to look at the devastation and his breath caught in his throat. Dozens of men, women, and children were dead and yet, here he was, running away. He should be there helping his people.

His heartbeat accelerated as frustration and rage built in his chest. He wrenched his hand away from her and stopped running, bringing her to a halt. 

Looking around, he noticed they had reached the docks. A large white ship was moored at its berth. Several feet ahead of them, the sentry point was full with people jostling to board the sea vehicle.

His brows furrowed and his lips were drawn in a thin line. She must have known the explosion was going to happen. “Who are you?” he demanded.

By way of reply, she dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of carefully folded paper. “This should get you on that boat. Take it and leave here. It’s not safe.”

He held up a hand to cut her off and fixed her in a firm gaze. “I’m not leaving anywhere until you tell me what’s happening.”

She anxiously looked back towards the city and then at him. She spoke above a whisper, her voice almost lost in the din of the crowd. “There is an uprising by the Eldian resistance. They will kill every Marleyian and Honorary Marleyian in the city.”

Her voice turned desperate and she reached out to him. “So you must leave-”

He grabbed her wrist. His face twisted in a mixture of suspicion and anger, he hissed. “And why should I trust you?!”

She recoiled at his words, hurt and sorrow reflected in her eyes. But his gaze was instead pulled towards the black tattoo on her wrist.. A tattoo in the shape of a bird.

“Magpie?” He stared wide-eyed at her, searching her eyes for a sign of recognition.

She gave the slightest nod and his grip on her wrist loosened. Taking the opportunity, she pushed him towards the sentry point and thrust the paper into the guard’s hands. “The papers are for this man, Bertolt Hoover,” she shouted above the din.

On edge and distracted by the noise from the city, the Marleyian guard barely took a second look before nodding and pushing Hoover through the checkpoint.

“Wait, wait!” he yelled as he tried to push his way back towards the woman.

The crowd surged forward and he stumbled before being carried away with the tide of human bodies up the gangplank and onto the deck of the ship. He squeezed past the throngs of people and towards the entrance but a holler was given and the gangplank had been lifted.

The ship already moving slowly, he leaned over the railing to see her still standing there, watching him. His thoughts were still in a mess as he struggled to come to terms with what was happening. As always, he had been swept up by the flow, blindly following it like a coward. His grip on the railing tightened.

Nothing was ever by his own choice. Not the decision to be a soldier, and not the decision to run away now. He was leaving everything behind and somehow, he was alright with that. There was nothing and no one that he loved back in the city.

He gulped. Well actually, there was one person left.

He threw a hand out and shouted, “Come with me, Magpie!”

 

It was the last she would see of him.

That’s what she thought. And then he shouted at her to follow him. Her heart skipped a beat and in that moment, everything seemed to slow down.

Behind her, a deafening roar of advancing soldiers was approaching. She turned her head to see Bhreac and many others advancing towards the docks. Yet she felt no sense of joy or relief at seeing them there.

She brought her gaze back to the ship and him. Her chest tightened with a surge of longing and she took a tentative step forward.

“Rosheen!” she heard Bhreac call to her.

_I will do everything within my power for you, if you would let me._

The words from Hoover’s last letter echoed in her mind. And as she looked at him desperately reaching out to her, it all clicked. She knew where her place was in the world.

As gunshots rang out behind her, she started running parallel to the ship. Ahead, a stone bridge spanned the river opening that led to the ocean. It was her last chance.

She picked up speed as the wind whipped against her face. Blood pounded in her ears and her breath came out in quick huffs. Reaching the bridge, she pumped her legs faster even as she heard her name yelled out by Bhreac. He was somewhere close behind her but she kept her gaze firmly in front.

As the ship passed beneath the arc, she launched herself off the bridge just as Bhreac lunged for her. His fingers barely scraped the lapel of her coat and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck tingle. She was weightless in the air for a moment before landing with a thud onto a soft and firm human body.

Moaning in pain, she was helped to her feet by other passengers. Hoover, who she had landed on, got up slowly as well, his lips twisted in a grimace. She looked back towards the bridge and met Bhreac’s gaze.

His expression full of sorrow and anger, it tore her heart in two. She had never wanted to leave her only family behind but this was where she belonged. She tried to convey that in her eyes and as the distance grew between them, she saw him give a slight tilt of his head.

He placed a fist on his chest before pointing at her, his lips moving to form words that she couldn’t hear but didn’t need to. Her heart swelled and tears misted her eyes as a smile spread her lips.

“Are you alright, magpie?” A hand placed on her shoulder, she turned towards Hoover.

She nodded, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a hand before chuckling softly. “I’m Rosheen.”

The tall, handsome man whom she knew as Mr. Giraffe smiled warmly. “I know. I’m Bertolt.”

“Nice to finally meet you.”


End file.
